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Today's guest was clearly not one of those young masters. When Zhong Jimin heard that he had been chosen as the man's sparring partner, he felt a sense of being flattered. He immediately stood up and strode forward. The man stood still, watching the other man approach step by step. Thick sunglasses concealed his emotions, but they couldn't hide his extremely focused expression.

Zhong Jimin didn't quite understand why the other man was looking at him so intently. He was just a dark-skinned, thin middle-aged man, simply dressed and unremarkable in appearance. However, he didn't let that make him impolite and took the initiative to greet him, saying, "Hello, sir!"

"Hello," the man replied curtly; judging from his voice, he was probably a young man. He not only wore large sunglasses but also turned up his collar, seemingly intentionally trying to hide his face.

Zhong Jimin was eager to see this person's face, but his position as a service provider prevented him from invading his guest's privacy. He simply tried his best to fulfill his role.

"What kind of guidance do you need?" he asked.

"I bought ten cartridges for the shooting range. You can come with me to finish shooting." The young man had already started walking away as he spoke. Zhong Jimin paused for a moment, took the hunting rifle and ammunition from the waiter, and then hurried a few steps to the shooting area of the range with the young man.

The young man wiggled his shoulders and elbows, loosening the corresponding ligaments and joints. Skeet shooting differs from static target shooting; it requires quick reactions and agile movements. Judging from the coordination of his preparatory movements, he was clearly not a novice. His gaze remained fixed on the distance; the twilight sky was growing increasingly intense, possessing a somber, blood-red hue that resonated with a certain emotion within him, making him momentarily entranced.

"Sir, are you ready?" Zhong Jimin's voice rang out from behind the young man. The latter turned around and saw the instructor handing him the hunting rifle.

"Please handle the gun carefully, it's already loaded," Zhong Jimin said very solemnly. "Before you fire, make sure the muzzle is pointing downwards and in front of your body."

The young man caught the gun with practiced ease. He wore a pair of thin black gloves, and his grip on the gun was perfect. In an instant, he and the gun became one, mutually radiating a sharp and imposing aura.

Zhong Jimin took a deep breath. He had already sensed the cold, sharp aura emanating from the man, and now it was becoming increasingly apparent. He began to guess that this man must have been a soldier, or perhaps, like himself, a former SWAT sniper? Because when the man stood there holding his shotgun, he was unmistakably a deadly hunter capable of deciding life and death.

However, the man did not point the gun at the ground as instructed, so Zhong Jimin had to remind him again: "The gun should be pointed downwards, not held horizontally—that's very dangerous."

The young man ignored him, not even bothering to turn his head. After gazing at the horizon for a moment, his voice rang out softly: "What truly controls a gun is not the hand position, but the thoughts in the mind of the person holding it."

Zhong Jimin was deeply moved. The young man's words further demonstrated that he was a gunman of considerable skill, and he couldn't think of a way to refute him, because it truly reflected a profound understanding of guns. He could only look around dejectedly, hoping that no one else had witnessed the violation.

"Put on the disc," the young man said.

Zhong Jimin pressed the control button, and a disc target shot out of the launcher, tracing a beautiful parabolic trajectory against the dazzling twilight background. When the trajectory reached its highest point, a gunshot suddenly rang out, and the disc exploded, sending up a burst of white fireworks.

"Beautiful!" Zhong Jimin exclaimed. As an observer, he had to admit that it was a perfect shot, impeccable in every aspect, from accuracy and timing to the aesthetics of the movement.

The young man simply handed the gun to Zhong Jimin and said calmly, "Load the bullets and put in the disc."

This seemed to be a guest who didn't want to talk much. Zhong Jimin analyzed to himself that he'd better not be too talkative either, otherwise he might annoy the other person. But with his superb archery skills, why would he need a coach to accompany him?

The loaded shotgun was back in the young man's hands. Then came the firing of targets, the ringing of guns, and the bursts of fireworks.

The young man's movements were swift and concise, as if he were completing a routine task. Whether it was the dazzling sunset or his desire to conceal his face, he didn't even glance back once when all nine bullets were fired.

Nine bullets, a 100% hit rate. Such a result couldn't help but make Zhong Jimin take notice.

With only one bullet left, and judging from his previous performance, Zhong Jimin had no doubt that the young man would achieve a perfect Grand Slam. So he released the target and waited for the fireworks to dissipate again in the twilight.

But this time, the gun didn't fire. The young man watched the target streak across the sky, his body frozen in place, completely still.

"What happened?" Zhong Jimin asked in surprise after the target fell to the ground.

The young man finally turned his head, his gaze shooting out from behind his sunglasses and fixed firmly on Zhong Jimin's face. After a moment, he said quietly, "This is the last bullet."

“Yes.” Zhong Jimin shook his head helplessly, “But you’ve already missed the target.”

The young man snorted, seemingly sneering. "I have no interest in target shooting," he said, turning his gaze back to the sky.

Yes. Someone with his shooting skills must be tired of shooting at unchanging targets like disc targets by now, right? Zhong Jimin seemed quite understanding of his feelings, so he smiled and suggested, "Our shooting range also offers outdoor hunting activities. Would you like to try them out?"

“Shooting animals?” The young man shook his head. “Don’t you think that’s just a waste of bullets?”

Zhong Jimin couldn't understand what the other person meant, so he frowned and asked, "Then how else do you want to play?"

The young man toyed with the shotgun in his hand: "For a gunman, a person is the best prey. When you fire, you can definitely feel his fear, his despair... He may also resist, which makes the whole process even more exciting. Of course, the most important thing is that you will find a reason to shoot him. When you fire with a purpose, that is a truly perfect shot."

"How is that possible?" Zhong Jimin chuckled. "In today's society, how could you possibly have the opportunity to kill someone with a gun?"

The young man countered, "Isn't shooting at living people a deep-seated desire in every gunman's heart?"

Zhong Jimin was stunned; he began to sense an uneasy atmosphere. He didn't respond to the other man's words, but smiled and said in as casual a tone as possible, "Sir, please hand over the gun. Your shooting is over."

"It's over?" the young man seemed to reply with a smile. "But I still have one bullet left, don't I?"

“You’ve missed the target—hand me the gun.” Zhong Jimin grew increasingly uneasy, and his tone changed, becoming serious.

The young man showed no intention of surrendering his gun; instead, he gripped it even tighter. Zhong Jimin was caught in a dilemma. He hesitated, wondering if he should forcibly take the gun from the other man: but now that it was already loaded, doing so would undoubtedly be a very dangerous move—if it accidentally went off during the struggle, the shotgun firing in the field would be no laughing matter!

The young man then turned around, facing Zhong Jimin. He suddenly asked, "Have you ever shot or killed anyone?"

Such a question was rather rude and abrupt. Zhong Jimin really wanted to take off the other person's sunglasses to see what kind of face was hidden behind them. However, he managed to suppress his emotions and asked in return, "What's wrong?"

"I just want to know... your reasons for killing, and how you felt after you killed the person." The young man spoke earnestly, without any provocation in his tone. However, after he turned around, the gun was pointed in the direction of Zhong Jimin, making the latter feel very uncomfortable. He regretted hosting such a strange guest.

However, he decided to answer the other person's question seriously, because this topic was sacred to him.

“I have killed people. Everyone I killed deserved it. Watching these people fall under my gun, my biggest feeling was that I had completed my mission and upheld the dignity of justice,” Zhong Jimin said firmly. Finally, he proudly puffed out his chest, “because I was once a special police sniper, and my mission was to shoot down criminals who seriously endangered public safety.”

The young man was silent for a moment: "Can you guarantee that everyone you shot deserved to die, and that you have never misused your power of life and death?"

“I can guarantee that.” Zhong Jimin looked at the other person without hesitation. “I have shot kidnappers, crazed serial killers, dangerous escapees… They all committed crimes deserving of death.”

The young man looked at Zhong Jimin from behind his sunglasses: "Do you still remember a man named Wen Hongbing from eighteen years ago?"

Zhong Jimin immediately frowned, clearly impressed by the name. Then, he asked with a hint of unease, "How did you know about this?"

“It’s in your file.” The young man had already prepared his response. “The club’s website has detailed information on all your coaches, and your combat achievements during your time as a police officer are also listed. That’s why I chose you as my sparring partner.

"Is that so?" Zhong Jimin was skeptical. He didn't know much about the internet, and thinking about it, he couldn't think of any other explanation. After a moment, he complained, "We agreed to use pseudonyms, so how did this still get out?"

"Are you afraid of others finding out?" The young man's lips curled into a cold smile. "But you were full of pride when you talked about your achievements just now."

“This is different…” Zhong Jimin hesitated, “That person… he shouldn’t have died.”

"Why?"

"He was forced into it, and the subjective harm he caused by the crime wasn't strong. Besides, the police negotiators at the scene already had the situation under control," Zhong Jimin recalled. This was originally a secret, but now a stranger brought it up. Perhaps it's because so many years have passed that no one cares anymore?

He never imagined that the person who cared about this most was standing right in front of him.

The young man's heart trembled violently. The other person's words confirmed what he had already known and plunged him into painful memories. After struggling to compose himself, he coldly said, "But you still shot him. You shot someone who shouldn't have died!"

The other party's words became sharper, but Zhong Jimin remained calm. He shook his head and said calmly, "I didn't kill him."

The young man was slightly taken aback: "What do you mean?"

“I didn’t kill him—it involves some internal secrets,” Zhong Jimin repeated, but his words were vague. Then, he asked warily, “Why are you interested in this?”

The young man remained silent, and through the edge of his sunglasses, one could see that his brows were furrowed into two small knots. The conversation was heading in an unexpected direction, and the other person's expression didn't seem to be lying, nor did he have any reason to lie about this.

Caught completely off guard by this change, the conversation seemed to have reached a stalemate. The young man couldn't face Zhong Jimin's questions, nor could he think of a good way to get the other party to explain the "secret." However, based on the information he already had, he was already able to develop related assumptions and reasoning.

"You didn't kill him—so someone else killed him, right?" After a long silence, the young man spoke again, his voice hoarse as if he were struggling to speak.

Zhong Jimin pursed his lips and remained silent, but his attitude clearly indicated his tacit agreement.

The young man's chest began to heave, a sudden sense of fear washing over him. For a moment, he even wanted to run away, but a stronger force compelled him to approach the horrifying truth step by step. So, with trembling emotions, he continued to press on: "You didn't kill him, someone else shot Wen Hongbing—but why are your names listed in the police records?"

“I’ve already said, this is a police secret.” Zhong Jimin seemed to sense the other party’s weakness, and his tone became tougher. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Please hand over the gun to me.”

But the young people don't want it to end yet.

"Because this shooting violated police procedures, is that right?" He began to answer the previous question himself, while his body uncontrollably pressed towards Zhong Jimin's location.

Zhong Jimin took a step back, his expression tense as the other party approached: "What are you doing?" he asked, focusing his mind—the other party still refused to hand over his gun, perhaps he should take some drastic measures.

Having passed middle age, Zhong Jimin's body was no longer as strong as it had been in his youth, but the foundation laid by his years as a special police officer was still there. If it were in the past, he would have pounced without hesitation and used grappling techniques to subdue the other party immediately.

But today he lacked the courage to do so, not out of cowardice, but because the person opposite him was putting too much pressure on him. That guy was enveloped in a powerful aura, a kind of power he had never seen before. So he dared not make a rash move, because he simply didn't have the confidence to defeat his opponent.

So Zhong Jimin took another moment to scan his surroundings, looking for a possible way to call for help. The young man noticed this subtle movement, but he paid no attention. He simply pressed closer, bombarding him with questions as if seeking confirmation: "The real gunman had no right to fire, because he was just a trainee policeman! If this is recorded in the report, both the operation leader and the gunman will be held accountable! So you become the nominal shooter, the truth of the scene is completely concealed, those who should be punished escape punishment, and you gain fabricated credit!"

Zhong Jimin's expression changed from tense to surprised. He suddenly frowned: "Who exactly are you? How do you know so much?"

The young man just kept growling to himself, "Tell me! Am I right?!"

Zhong Jimin smiled wryly: "You already know, so why are you asking me?"

His voice wasn't loud, but his words were like a sharp needle, piercing the young man's imposing aura. The latter immediately curled up in pain, as if he had suffered an unprecedented and devastating blow. He clenched his teeth and muttered, "Why, why..."

Zhong Jimin immediately realized that this was a good opportunity to strike. He took a step forward, using his left hand to grab the hunting rifle while his right hand locked onto the young man's throat.

They were already very close, and Zhong Jimin moved very quickly; he was confident he wouldn't miss. But he was wrong.

His figure had barely swayed when the young man sprang up. The powerful aura from before instantly regrouped and exploded completely. Zhong Jimin only felt a blur before his eyes, and his right hand was pushed aside by a great force. At the same time, something cold and hard pressed against the top of his head.

Zhong Jimin's heart sank deeply; he knew all too well what that thing on his head was.

The gun was his lifelong companion, but this companion was now in the hands of another terrifying person. Thus, a deadly bullet was just a barrel's distance from his vital spot.

"Why?" the young man roared. "Why did that trainee officer fire?! Tell me!"

His voice was loud, and he seemed to be in a state of emotional turmoil. The other staff members at the shooting range were finally alerted, and they all turned to look. The scene there shocked and horrified them. After a brief commotion, some fled in panic, while others cautiously approached.

The young man pressed the gun barrel forward again: "Speak! I don't have time to wait for you!" After a brief loss of control, he gradually regained his composure, his voice lowered, but his tone became even more sinister and terrifying.

The immense pressure from the gun barrel prompted Zhong Jimin to immediately reply, "I don't know."

The young man gritted his teeth and remained silent, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. Zhong Jimin quickly added, "I was just a sniper. My position was on the building opposite the crime scene. That day, the suspect kept intentionally changing positions, frequently running out of my sniper range. Later, a policeman came into the building to negotiate, and the on-site commander reported that things were progressing smoothly. I thought: the crisis should be resolved, right? But a moment later, gunshots rang out, and the suspect was shot dead by the negotiating policeman. At the time, the suspect was out of my sight, and I really didn't know what had happened."

The young man stared intently at the other person's face; his anxious and helpless expression didn't seem like a lie. But he still pressed on, unwilling to give up: "When you later conducted your operation debriefing, weren't the specific details reported internally?"

“No. The operation commander only told me privately that the person who fired the shot was just a trainee police officer, so he asked me to impersonate him. As for what actually happened at the scene, only the shooter and the commander knew. The commander didn’t tell me the details, and he didn’t even allow a third person to enter the scene.”

"Why?"

"Are you worried that the secret of the substitution will be leaked? The wounds caused by a sniper rifle are completely different from those caused by a police pistol. If other police officers enter the house, they will spot the flaw at a glance."

"How can something like this be kept secret?" The young man was deeply suspicious, and he tightened his grip on the shotgun again. "He's just a field commander; can he really cover everything up?"

Zhong Jimin gave a helpless, bitter smile: "That commander... he was a very special person. I don't know how to explain it to you, because you can't imagine the authority he had in the police force back then."

The young man paused for a moment and asked, "Is it that Ding Ke? The former criminal police captain?" He knew the identity of the commander of Case 130 from the stolen files, but he knew nothing about this person's legendary experience.

Zhong Jimin replied, "It's him." Although he was under the deadly threat of a shotgun, admiration still welled up on his face when the name was mentioned. Then he sighed and said, "You don't need to doubt my words, because there's nothing that no one can't do."

The young man was silent for a moment: "Then where is he now?"

“He disappeared ten years ago—he hid himself away.”

The young man knew this was indeed the case. He had previously searched for Ding Ke's whereabouts, but had found no trace of the man in the past decade.

"You want to find him?" Zhong Jimin shook his head slightly after seeing what the other person was thinking. "Impossible. Since he wants to hide, no one can find him."

The young man snorted, sounding somewhat annoyed.

That guy named Ding Ke, is he really that amazing? No matter what, I must find him. I want the world to know that the only person capable of anything is me!

"Young man, don't be impulsive, let's talk this out..." A strange voice interrupted the young man's thoughts. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the voice, only to see a middle-aged fat man standing about ten meters away, dressed in a suit and tie. He must be the manager of the shooting range.

Looking behind the fat man, a dozen or so men in security uniforms quietly dispersed, forming a perimeter around his location. The young man's heart stirred; he knew he couldn't stay there any longer.